#EVEN IF IT WAS MORE NEUTRAL OR NOT ENTIRELY NEGATIVE

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fanfic Idea: New Money

The ghost zone doesn't have a formal form of currency. Depending on which part of the zone one is in, a trade could be made, or a Deal can be struck, but coins can rarely, if ever, be exchanged.

Every subculture that forms in the zone can eventually develop its own currency, but it will only have value within its territory. An example would be the credit crystals that the Far Frozen have developed, with a corresponding amount of funds floating inside their iced rocks. Still, if a Yeti were to travel even a foot outside their snowy mountains, the stones would become an interesting clothing choice and nothing else.

Ghosts value emotions more than any amount of gold or coin. Oftentimes, the most powerful of ecto beings would battle it out if a child's favorite teddy bear somehow found its way into the zone, though the thin cracks between worlds or an entire army of ghost mercenaries could be bought with a single pair of favorited socks.

It may not seem as much to the living, but to ghosts who could see the attachment embedded into the item, it meant everything. Some emotions could even be eaten off of the items if they were fresh enough, and while it did give a power boost, most of the time, the emotions were positive.

If a negative emotion was eaten, Ghosts could quickly become addicted to it, and when cut off from the negative emotion, they could soon fall apart in seconds.

Spectra was a famous example used in the zone as a precautionary tale for all new ghosts. Her beauty and power were only a facade to her desperation for angst emotions, and she flouted about the Zone, always on the hunt for her next fix.

It was pretty sad to see.

A few ghosts did their best to limit additions, such as Walker, who established himself a section of the zone using his great sense of justice that he had died with. He found human contraband that came into the zone unnaturally, sealing them away in his haunt.

These items usually had lickings of anxiety, desperation, or even fear attached to them and could quickly turn any ghost into a violent sort.

Walker's mission since his creation was to limit this exposal. He even arrested various ghosts that went to the human world through unnatural means, a majority coming back contaminated with human emotions and becoming a danger to fellow ghosts.

Most of these ghosts had items on them that were deemed worthless once all emotion was sucked out. Walker usually had his men take them to the Dump.

The Dump in the Ghost Zone was an extensive collection of worthless items gathered at the far right. It was known as a neutral section of the Zone, as every civilization and haunt often traveled there to eliminate clutter. Everything unwanted usually finds its way to the Dump.

Danny, after having a trial with Walker and coming to the understanding that he was not, in fact, attempting to make his fellow Ghosts addicted to anger- cause apparently a majority of Walker's prisoners were in there because of their exposal to Danny!- he was directed to the Dump to rid of his worthless ripped bag.

Danny had flown there expecting mountains and mountains of garbage. What he found instead were islands made entirely of gold. He flouted over the piles and piles of jewels, gold coins, random bills, and valuable items, gaping at the long collection that went further than his eye could see.

"What is all of this?" He gasps just as Box Ghost floats by carrying a jewelry box. He flips it open and shakes out a necklace with a diamond as large as Danny's palm onto the pile of jewelry. He gives Danny a friendly wave when they make eye contact.

He proudly flouts over to Danny, taking the neutral status of the Dump to heart. No fighting was allowed in this territory, much like Truce Day; all ghosts abided by this rule.

"The Box Ghost was lucky to be near a natural portal leading to the Human world's sea. This small rectangular object was once beloved by a grandmother, and now it is all mine!" He cheers, holding the jewelry box, practically half rotted and dripping wet over his head. A faint, gentle green glow surrounded it.

Danny blinks, pointing down at the necklace. "What about that? Aren't you going to keep it?"

"The Box Ghost has no need for useless stones!" The floating man even sticks his tongue to the necklace that could pay for Danny's college education (If it were real).

Only half joking, Danny asks, "Can I have it then?"

Box Ghost blinks, then gestures to the mountains and mountains of wealth. "If the Ghost Child wishes for a garage, he can take whatever he likes. No one will mind. Though, why would you waste time on soulless items? Box Ghost can not be sure!"

Box Ghost flies away laughing as if Danny was the one to mock for wanting a diamond necklace. He watches the ghost go before turning back to the mountains and mountains of shimmering gold.

Deciding to fly through the Dump to see what else he can find, Danny begins exploring- but not before taking the necklace- and later comes upon an island dedicated to various human clothing that looked like it came from hundreds of eras. He finds himself dressing up like a Lord of Old for fun when he happens upon leather bags.

Seeing as no one was there to stop him, Danny filled up each bag with chains and jewels, flying home in his new get up. He figured he could use some of the funds even if the gold was fake.

_____________________________________________________________

Oliver Queen is new money. His wealth came from only three generations ago, and while that is rather impressive, it held no candle to families like the Waynes.

The Waynes were old money, and their galas showed it. Every time old Brucie called him to celebrate, Oliver went along only to keep his company board happy.

They couldn't afford to offend one of their most prominent investors even if there were no thoughts behind Bruce Wayne's eyes. Oliver would have enjoyed himself more at these parties- if there was one thing Bruce Wayne knew how to do: throw a fantastic party- but sadly, he had to deal with the other old-money people who attended Bruce's parties.

The passive aggression reminders that he would never been on their level, the choking humiliation, the constant looking down on him. Well, it got exhausting. Especially since Oliver spent so much of his free time fighting for justice and trying to make the world a better place. These people talked and acted like they were above it all.

Like nothing could touch them, even when a majority of them were the cause for so much darkness, Oliver faced as Green Arrow.

He needed a stronger drink.

"Rather self-important for new money, isn't he?" A woman whispers loudly, mocking in every inch of her tone. Oliver's eyebrow twitches as he drowns his glass. He turns towards the voice, somewhat ready to cause a scene so he can go home, but it is a surprise to find that the gossiping woman isn't facing him

Rather, they are turned towards a young man, likely late teens, who is currently piling his plate high with sweets. The boy glances in the woman's direction before snorting unattractively and adding more to his plate.

Oliver is mildly impressed that he could make the woman flush with rage without saying anything. He had never seen the kid before, but he almost looked like a new Wayne with his dark hair and sparkling blue eyes.

He finds his feet walking towards the teenager before he can think about it. Something interesting may be at this gala after all.

"Hey, you seemed to really like fudge. Have you tried the raspberry ones? It's the best." He starts gesturing to a familiar chef's name in front of a chocolate tray. He had a sample of their work only a week ago when Batman brought some to the Watch Tower.

It was absolutely heaven.

The teen considered the pink color fudge before he took three cudes. With his bare hands. Well. New money, indeed.

"Thanks!" The boy chirps after stuffing one in his mouth and savoring the flavor.

"You're welcome. My son, Roy, really likes it too." He smiles as the boy glances towards where his adoptive son is currently chatting with Jason Todd. Those two find themselves attached to the hip whenever there is a gala. Maybe Roy will bring him home for the holidays soon. "I'm Oliver Queen, owner of Queen Industries."

"Danny Fenton," The boy responds slightly hesitantly. "Do all rich people do that? Add what makes them rich to their inductions?"

Oliver snorts, "Only the real tacky ones."

"Okay, Mr. Owner of Queen Industries."

Oh Oliver like this kid. He grins, ignoring the jab. "And what about you? What made you rich enough to be here to tonight."

The kid's eyes gain a certain glint of humor as he shrugs. "One man's trash is another man's treasure."

Oliver moves to ask what he means, but Brucie shows up then, and he can't find a way out of the conversation. He's buttering up to the big idiot, knowing he lost sight of the strange boy.

Afterward, Oliver looks into Danny Fenton, only to find that the boy somehow appears out of nowhere with billions of dollars but no known source of where he got them. It also seems Batman was already on the case, assuming the boy was counterfeiting somehow, but Oliver didn't get that sense from the kid.

Something wasn't adding up about the boy, but he didn't think it was illegal. He just had to convince the big bad bat of that. If only it could be as easy as convincing Bruce Wayne to spend millions of dollars.

[zynnth]

WELL WELL WELL IF IT ISNT ANOTHER MARTIN LORE STREAM TO MAKE ME GO CRAZY

(My AU of the Eyes and Ears AU)

Alright so this stream from today confirmed a couple of things I was wordering about previously and that got my gears turning again. There were quite a lot of lore drops but for now I'm once again mainly going to focus on the Watchers and how they feed on the emotions of the players.

This got mentioned a fair amount throughout the stream but the moment that stood out to me the most was towards the end, where someone briefly asked whether the Watchers could starve if they don't have any emotions to absorb. Turns out that the answer was a very straightforward "yes". This intrigues me especially, since this is an idea that I have been turning around in my head quite a bit previously, especially when writing this and this post.

I've already talked about how both Joel's victory in Wild Life and Scott's finale in Last Life went against what the Watchers wanted in terms of producing these intense negative feelings, but I haven't yet put into words what exactly that meant for these beings. This was mainly due to the fact that the necessity of feeding on emotions was still dubious as far as I was concerned, but now that has been cleared up. They do need it, and failing to do so will apparenly have severe concequences for them.

Now my interpretation of the lore is slightly different from Martin's, mainly in regards to the fact that in my version, all of the players are at least somewhat aware of the existence of the Watchers, and maybe even the Listeners, and their involvement in the games. The reason why they don't seem to fight back apart from a couple of instances, is the same reason why they usually don't carry over emotions from one game to another. The Watchers take away that resentment too, but as we've seen, it keeps coming back in some form.

My immediate conclusion was that in order to get rid of them, the players would have to overcome the negativity of the situation and either remain relatively neutral or thrive on the positive feelings instead. Part of this has already been achieved courtesy of Grian, who purposefully brings lightheartedness into these death games, seemingly keeping quite a lot of ugly feelings at bay and therefore opposing the Watchers' will. What's interesting though, is that Grian himself is a Watcher as well, who also feasts on emotions. Contrary to the other Watchers however, who prefer negative feelings over the rest, Grian has a more "balanced diet". In other words, he takes both positive and negative ones, not willing to exploit the suffering of his friends. This implies that regardless of whether the players have a fun time or not, the Watchers will still be able to sustain themselves.

The problem with this though is that my initial thought of starving them out to get rid of them wouldn't quite work. Maybe they will move on to another set of players to use once they realise they've harvested as much as they could from these ones, and although that would solve the issue of them tormenting these people, the existence of the death games would still continue.

I guess it wasn't entirely confirmed whether positive feelings are enough for Watchers to maintain themselves so there is still a possibility that it would at least weaken them in some way, enough to give the players a fighting chance.

With that in mind I still think that the key to fighting back is to not give them what they want. Even if that won't starve them out completely, it might just inconvenience the Watchers enough to give the Listeners, or maybe the players themselves an opening to make a drastic move. It won't be easy and it certainly won't be possible just by themselves, but with allies on their side, it might just be possible if they have a little bit of hope and trust.

And we all know how the Watchers feel about trust.

[akuma-homura]

i'm remembering buzzly.art randomly and like

still sad about it

twitter fyp decided to show me it's apparently open publicly now, but I have no idea what its current state or stance of the owners are, or that whole mess. (...also wondering what I liked or retweeted to get a buzzly thing on the fyp?????)

Along with that, when that all was going down, they did literally ban my account anyway because I didn't choose the poll option that was completely 100% supportive of the one owner

LIKE IT WASN'T EVEN THE TOTALLY NEGATIVE TOWARDS THE DUDE OPTION I wish I remembered the actual choices wordings but the one I picked was like. i picked it 'cause I had the feeling of 'idk it's a little iffy but we'll see, i'm not sure'

but that was enough for my account to get fucking banned during that fiasco. Also remembering the weird passive aggression of the one owner towards people even trying to be really soft about their questions too.

not to mention that weird community morality poll or whatever it was called

like. idk. even if it is 'better', if those people are still in charge... I don't trust it.

[dan-crimes]

I love writers I love when they ramble on abt characters and their motivations, their core values and the reasons why they react to things in certain ways and having character interactions work off of each other due to their differing ways of viewing the world and in general I just love character analysis

[vacant2007]

i never do anything with love when i get it

[shiny-jr]

Hi! I noticed that your requests were open and I love the way you write Malleus so I was hoping you would do yandere malleus x reader. where the reader knows twisted wonderland is a game (but not imposter au pls) and after they got isekia'd are trying to stop the overblots from happening and malleus is just terrified for them. Idk just an idea I've had for awhile but never found a fanfic like lol. Obviously it's totally fine if you don't want to do it or if I accidentally broke a rule. Anyway remember to drink some water and take a break if needed! Have a amazing rest of your day/night!!

Warning: Yandere (not really, not at all). Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Malleus Draconia.

Summary: MC sees affection meters and it's not good.

Note: These are mainly thoughts and random words my mind spewed out.  

How did one claim victory at a game? Well, it entirely depended on the game, the mechanics and the options. It should've been impossible to lose a mobile game that was primarily composed of the gacha mechanism and visual novels.

When you suddenly found yourself in the series of twisted villains in a prestigious school of magic, you found that it was much more complex than it appeared on screen. Especially when only you could see these small bars occasionally floating above people's heads. Bars which you recognized as affection meters, nearly all of them stagnant at a dull gray 0% when you first arrived. This was the hurdle blocking your way to an easy victory. Because how else were you to escape the game, other than complete it?

Situations became messier, when you didn't have a dialogue options between two mere choices. Add making good impressions and keeping a character's favor, to the list of quests alongside avoiding death by inky overblotted characters. By some miracle, you had increased the affection of the characters you met and interacted with to a healthy 5% or 10%, sometimes more. At any cost you wished to avoid getting in the negatives, because you did not want to find out what would happen then.

Sometimes, the numbers would drop dangerously close to zero, mainly when an overblot was occuring. Never had you realized how the visual novel failed spectacularly at portraying the utter horror of the overblotted in all their wicked glory. The black inky darkness leaking from them like tears or blood with those crazed unhinged looks in their eyes–– was the stuff of pure nightmares.

And yet the one whose overblot you had been dreading the most, the dorm leader of Diasomnia, was surprisingly docile as you dealt with others. However, you knew even when conversing with him, that you would one day witness him overblot and look like some ethereal but deadly fallen angel. So mentally you prepared yourself, while taking on the task of keeping up appearances.

Malleus' affection meter, was a good 20% and a friendly pink shade, quite the accomplishment you were proud of, considering the majority of the cast wasn't even at 15%. The Draconia heir was certainly someone you never wanted to see reach below zero, so you did your absolute best to appeal to him, even if he was quite intimidating at first with the way he stoically watched you complain about the least of your worries, homework and classes.

By the time you spoke to him about your troubles with the Ramshackle dorm and Azul, during what you knew was the Octavinelle arc, the prince's affection had sprouted to a 22%. When you went into more detail of the potential loss you could face, it went to 23%.

The next time you saw him, you were weary and antsy since witnessing Azul's break-down. If the blot of his tears had the magic to gather, it would've been enough to drown, you were sure of it. Even by that maniac look in his eyes, you're sure he would've purposely drowned you if he got close enough.

Throughout that charlatan's chapter, his affection meter had slowly been rising, dropping during the overblot like the tides only to rise once again by the end to a good 45%. This was good!

But no matter how much you may have pondered, strategized, or try to predict each next action, you could've never guessed that the next time you saw Malleus after Azul's overblot, his expression taut with concern, his affection meter had made a jump to 55% and turned red. This entire time you had been avoiding the negatives, but you never once worried of the dangers and implications a red affection meter above 50% would mean for you. Or heaven forbid, anything close to 100%.

[ghostlyfleur]

𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡.

steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: the sweet progression of steve and his pretty girl’s relationship.

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, idiots in love, oblivious!reader, shy!reader, inexperienced!reader. pet names (angel, baby, flower girl, pretty girl, princess, sweet girl). 18+ mdni, smut-adjacent. world building.

word count: ~4.5k

pre-relationship—

steve’s girl friend is a soft spoken, remarkably sweet, gentle soul. she’s shy, way too anxious, so inexperienced that she comes off as innocent. her wardrobe consists of flowy skirts and flowery dresses and soft sweaters and cozy knits, puts flowers in her hairdos like interwoven in braids or tucked in a half-up half-down mess, has this ethereal vibe to the makeup she likes to wear (ie. shimmery eyeshadow in soft colors, highlighter, sparkly lipgloss, white waterline pencil, fairy wing eyeliner designs, and slightly blushy cheeks), wears silver wire-framed glasses at home when not using contacts and steve thinks it brings out her gorgeous eyes even more. she always wears pretty dangly earrings with flowers, her nails painted with glitter nail polish or neutral soft colors, and steve thinks she’s an angel.

the rest of the people in town mostly think her to be weird and unapproachable, with the way she stops mid walk to crouch down and whisper softly to a ladybug she sees on the sidewalk, or when she accidentally bumps into a street pole and yells out a panicked ‘sorry!’ as if she would hear a reply back.

when steve first met his girl, he was enchanted.

she was so soft and beautiful and kind, but also very anxious; something he noticed the first time she walked into scoops ahoy, and steve was so excited to finally talk to the pretty girl that started working at the flower shop down the block that he’s been pining for. the pretty girl’s reaction to his flirting however was of shyness, nervousness, and seemingly scared silence… so steve decided to make a fool out of himself just to see her smile. it was worth it. steve felt as if her laughter was the equivalent of the skies opening up to let sunshine peak through dark clouds. they eased their way into each other’s lives after that. his girl started seeking him out, finding comfort and safety in his presence and caregiving personality, though remaining clueless of his feelings and just how much robin teased him for being a smitten fool.

“pretty flower girl” is how steve referred to her at the beginning, all heart eyes and dreamy sighs. working at a flower shop seems to fit her so entirely, like she’s in her own little world while surrounded by flora. she’s able to tell you the meanings, both positive and negative, of any flower imaginable, of different plants too! keeps a log book and a journal to track her flora friends’ growth, pressed flowers and polaroid pictures of different bouquets, photographs each beautiful arrangement she creates in a picture album.

her home is also completely taken over by pots and plants and gardens and hanging vines, secrets whispered to them while she waters her little friends as needed, full conversations kept that seem to make all the plants bloom and flourish even more. lots of natural light comes in from the many windows of her cabin, surrounded by greenery and trees and a small pond that wild animals often visit, knowing her safe haven is also a safe haven for any animals. the place always smells like whatever she’s baking, the decor homey and filled with crystals and incense and hand painted mugs and vases. greens, yellows, oranges, and tan colors. books balanced on any available surface.

she becomes steve’s girl best friend, and he loves her so much. worships her, really. steve makes it his mission to spoil and love his pretty girl, even if he hides it behind silly flirting and the pretense of friendship.

whenever they’re together, steve and his girl are all the other sees. the gang has a little bet on who will break first, steve or his flower girl.

her sit is always his lap.

steve swears off other girls as soon as he meets her.

he is very affectionate towards her, and she loves to kiss his cheeks.

they often have sleepovers just the two of them.

they’re so close they can just exist together and be at peace.

she’s so supportive of him too, always praising him and hyping him up.

steve is overprotective of her.

whenever one goes the other sure follows.

see, steve’s girl is so sweet on him it drives robin crazy. because robin knows the feelings are reciprocated, but she also knows both steve and his girl enough to know she needs to let them figure this out by themselves. it doesn’t mean robin isn’t their number one fan, though.

steve’s pretty girl bakes him sweets often to bring to him at work to “make your day a little easier, stevie”, she brings him flowers from her job that steve learns to preserve in his room, she gives him her favorite ring that he never takes off. but steve also does little things for his sweet girl— takes care of her and buys her chocolate because it makes her so happy and giddy he falls a little more in love each time. he also reminds her to drink water, buys her favorite snacks for movie night or when she’s on her period, takes her to the movies, drives her everywhere (because she’s his pretty passenger princess) to have some extra time with her.

oh! steve’s girl also has a bunch of homemade gifts that she keeps in a small glass trunk in her home because she’s too shy to give them to her stevie— handmade bracelets, handmade wire rings, pretty things she finds at thrift stores that remind her of her pretty boy, handmade necklaces, small gifts with pressed flowers, letters she writes down because she feels so deeply for her sweet boy that she needs to let it out somehow, and a bunch of other small gifts that she hopes one day she can give to her stevie to show him how much she loves him.

she’s so lovely to her stevie without even realizing, though. she’s demiromantic, you see, and after becoming friends with steve she started to slowly fall for him. the thing is, she knew very well what was happening, she’s very in tune to her emotions, and she fell for him willingly! whereas steve fell for her fast and kept falling.

imagine his girl never had her first kiss… she’s so inexperienced and her sweet persona and gentle demeanor make her seem like the softest person ever. steve is so mesmerized by her.

he flirts with her and is sweet to her and devotes his time to her and spoils her rotten and gives her kisses and hugs and cuddles and all the love he has to give— steve quickly decided that even if they’re ‘just friends’ he’ll still treat her like his princess, give her everything he can and shower her in his adoration until she catches up. and even then, even when it’s so obvious that steve is in love with her, that he blushes and stutters and gets flustered only for her, that he shows her every day just how much he loves her, she remains oblivious.

in her pov, she knows she’s in love with her stevie so she’s going to treat him like the most precious person in her world. which he is. the thing is that she gives him all of her love without ever once considering that he might return it, even as he flirts and quite literally says he’s hers and she’s his all the time, it never even crosses her mind to actually believe it. maybe because she’s trying to protect herself from heartbreak. she just decides that her stevie deserves the world so she’s going to give him all she can.

but she’s so soft with him! holds his face between her hands when talking to him sometimes like she’s holding her whole world on her hands, presses kisses to his cheeks all the time, gives him hugs. she always compliments him, isn’t afraid of telling him exactly what’s on her mind…

“you look so pretty, stevie”

“i’m so proud of you.”

“i missed you lots today!”

“i saw this cute puppy and it reminded me of you ‘cause you’re just as cute!”

“i always prefer your company.”

flower girl is the most adorable sight steve has ever seen! she pouts so prettily whenever she doesn’t get the attention she wants from him, all soft lips and furrowed brows and plush cheeks crossed arms, and steve just wants to pepper kisses all over her face.

her love languages:

she bakes him cookies ; buys him things that remind her of her stevie ; plans these cute little “friend” outings that feel more like dates ; she’s never lacking in her affections though she’s very timid and shy when it happens ; will defend him no matter what ; makes sure to always praise him ; she gets all cranky if someone insults him even playfully ; she’s very shy so she often hides her face on his chest or neck and it makes his heart flutter ; she helps him babysit bc the kids love her ; she gave her stevie a special arrangement of flowers that she created just for him plus a little booklet of pictures of the two of them together that also had pressed flowers on it for his birthday ; she checks in with him every day even if they don’t see each other to make sure her stevie is doing okay ; will stay on the phone with him all night especially if he had a nightmare or a fight with his parents.

where steve’s best friend is all cute and pouty and sweet and clingy and loving but only to her stevie!!!!! and she’s a bit ditzy— talks to animals and plants and inanimate objects like they can answer her, her thoughts jump from one thing to another but steve always entertains her, she skips instead of waking a lot, she dresses all cute and coquette and always has glitter on her somewhere, she gives steve handmade gifts all the time with this shy little smile and blushing and sometimes when the gift is specially meaningful she’ll run away as soon as he accepts it 🥺 she trips over her own feet a lot too!!! so steve has to grip her waist to help her find her footing!!! and it makes her break out in goosebumps!!! and steve is so in love with her, with her ramblings and midnight ice cream cravings and true crime rants and the way she talks about murder and psychopath profiling and laughs at horror movies and has crystals and tarot cards and wants to befriend ghosts, how she gives her stevie little glass bottles with protection spells or anti-anxiety spells or how she always needs to hear his voice before bed.

and she’s so pretty and soft and kind and nice and laughs a lot and everyone loves her— but she never notices how so many people flirt with her, and never notices whenever steve scares possible suitors away, because really she only sees steve!!!!!! and it makes him crazy to see how she blatantly ignores anyone and everyone to focus on him!!!!!

but then one day steve’s girl starts feeling sad and heartbroken because she’s convinced herself that steve still loves nancy so she starts pulling away a little and steve doesn’t understand what he did wrong! robin has to spell it out for him that his girl thinks he still wants nancy when that couldn’t be further from the truth; steve now knows he’s never truly been in love before, not like he is with his angel, and that it was his angel that showed him he deserves someone who loves him just as much as he loves them. therefore, steve does his best to find ways to tell his girl that nancy is in the past, that she has nothing to worry about, but he has to do so while him and his angel aren’t together yet so he slowly breached the subject until he can figure out where his girl stands, if he can make a move, if she’s interested in him too, y’know? like those conversations filled with a deeper meaning and both parties trying to drop hints about their feelings but they’re still too hesitant to be more clear in their affections. for now.

imagine steve spoiling her and making her all giddy and happy and shy and giggly :( i want steve to treat his baby like royalty way before they even get together :( i wanna read about their first kiss and how it makes steve’s knees buckle and how she’s so giggly because it’s her first kiss and he tells her he wants to marry her right then and there and she tells him she never ever would consider being with anyone but her stevie :(

after they get together—

their first kiss happens in what steve considers to be the best night of his life to date.

it was halloween, and he was slightly nervous about going to the fair with not only the kids and robin and eddie, but his girl too. the year before, he stayed in with his angel and robin watching movies and eating junk, which was the perfect night ‘cause he got to cuddle his girl, but last halloween he went out to celebrate didn’t end up being very enjoyable for him… what with having your now-ex call you bulshit, bullshit, bullshit.

however, this is his girl he’s talking about. while it wasn’t a date, simply a hangout with their friend group, steve still considers his girl, well… his. and the fact she insisted on meeting them there herself had him slightly on edge.

she was dressed as a fairy.

steve has never seen anyone as pretty, as mesmerizing. and the way she treated this night, treated him, was driving steve crazy.

first, once she meets everyone at the entrance of the amusement park they agreed to go to, she insists on paying for both herself and steve. literally grabs steve’s wallet from his hand and only gives it back after she pays.

he, of course, only really allows it because she gives him her — in steve’s opinion illegal — pouty puppy eyes that she knows steve can’t say no to.

afterwards, once they all enter and the kids disperse to the various entertainment with the agreement of meeting up later to eat, steve’s girl drags him away from robin and eddie, who were both sporting knowing grins, to a shooting booth where she proceeds to win, suspiciously easily might he add, a stuffed frog for him.

and then she grabs his hand. albeit hesitantly, but she does. intertwining their fingers and everything.

the entire night was a dream for steve, and unbeknownst to him, for his girl too. she had a plan, you see. his angel was pulling out all the stops, even if she was shy and blushy the whole time— paying for the tickets for both of them was number one. followed by winning steve a stuffed animal, holding his hand, sharing fried oreos and cotton candy (again, paid by her), and going to the photobooth. the ferris wheel would be last, but it’s what happens inside the photobooth that matters.

once inside, steve made sure she was sat on his lap. she payed again. the pictures go a little something like this:

1st pic steve is laughing and she’s looking at him like he’s her dream come true which he is / 2nd pic she pushes forward not being able to wait any longer and quickly presses her lips to his a bit messily / 3rd pic is her looking all flustered and shy and doe-eyed while steve has this dazed look in his eyes and his jaw is dropped / 4th pic is steve grabbing her cheeks and kissing her fully, brows furrowed and all.

steve steals another kiss at the top of the ferris wheel, it was giggling and smiling more than kissing, though.

on the drive home, angel makes a stop at their self-assigned star gazing spot where she officially asks steve to be her boyfriend, all flustered and timid but oh so hopeful. another kiss, a resounding “yes” from her sweet boy, and dropping him off with a quick goodnight kiss ends the night, and steve has never been happier.

the fact she planned this whole night, took a chance, romanced the hell out of him, and was so genuine the whole time, looking to make him smile, just because, had steve on a high unlike any other. no one has ever taken the time to spoil him, to do romantic things for him. he’s not used to reciprocity in relationships, but here this angel is professing her love for him and not only saying it but showing him she means it. best night of his life.

and so their relationship begins.

steve harrington just worships his girl, spoils her continuously, and wants to do everything for her. he is overly affectionate and just obsessed with his baby, pictures of her and with her everywhere on his house, his car, his wallet, maybe even a locket he wears with a copy of the picture of their first kiss on it. steve took the photobooth strip and got the second picture, his angel kissing him for the first time, copied and altered to fit into the locket.

everyone in town just knows steve is entirely whipped and he does not care. he is definitely touch starved for his girl, quite a bit jealous, however, but trusts her so much that it just comes out as a sort of possessiveness that isn’t toxic but something both he and, secretly, his angel enjoy. steve always praises her and wants to take care of her because she’s his sweet little angel girl.

steve is also her first everything— first kiss, first date, first boyfriend, first time… and it drives him insane! something about knowing he’s the only one that’s ever had her and the only one she’s ever wanted just drives him up the wall and gets him so needy. so desperate. so whiney and pouty.

something else about steve as a boyfriend is that he’s his angel’s biggest fan — always praising, always encouraging, always in awe of her. will brag about his baby to anyone. randomly brings her up in conversation because she’s all he thinks about and he’s so proud to be hers.

buying her flowers whenever he can so she’ll give him this wide, square smile of hers that takes over her whole face like she can’t control it and her nose scrunches up a bit and he never wants to look at anything but her.

her stevie is really into pda too, can’t take his hands off of her, but nothing extreme; casual touches and pecks on her nose or temple or lips or cheeks, buries his face in her neck often, hand holding constantly!!!!!!, plays with her hair, is always playing with the delicate ‘s’ pendant on her neck that he gifted her and she never takes off (steve has this proud little smile whenever he messes with it).

then there’s the casual dominance— steve tucks her hair behind her ears, ties her shoelaces for her, adjusts the clasp of her necklace, puts her dainty jewelry on for her, braids her hair because she’s always clumsy with it and she prefers his braids over hers, gives her water so she stays hydrated, remembers her meds for her, adjusts her beanie on her hair when it’s cold and she’s wearing one, wipes chocolate from the corner of her mouth because his baby is a messy eater, pulls on her waist when they’re walking so she doesn’t bump into someone or something because she’s too busy talking and looking at him, spoon feeds her when she’s too tired and sleepy and pouty, brushes her teeth for her too when she’s being his cute little tired baby or is in subspace, brushing her hair and treating her like a little doll, his little doll, and loves to shower with her so he can do it for her, loves to drive her everywhere too. she’s his pretty passenger princess and they both take that role very seriously.

and whenever his pretty baby gets all glassy eyed and needy and blushy for him? he melts.

steve has a daddy kink. major one. and when he finally finds his baby, his person, he starts noticing things she might be into for the sole reason of wanting to be the absolute best he can be for his baby. the thing is, he knows she’s entirely new to this and still a bit nervous and hesitant and shy, so he starts by filing things away in his brain to make sure once she’s ready and the time comes that he can treat her perfectly, and give her everything and anything she wants.

his baby is probably a sub, she must be, with how pliable and soft she gets. for sure has an oral fixation, always giving him little kisses and little bites randomly and pressing his hand to her lips so she can softly mouth at them (but will shy away and get flustered when she notices she’s doing this) (she just loves his hands and he knows). steve’s girl also gets all flustered and her breath hitches when he jokingly calls himself ‘daddy’, so he takes that as a good sign because there’s nothing steve wants more in this world than to be her daddy. only hers. to spoil and care for and love his baby to the best of his ability.

she also loves when he manhandles her, he’s noticed— it’s just that steve really enjoys carrying his baby around, loves feeling needed and loves holding her and having her body pressed to his and have her hold on to him, but also he just wants to do things for his baby, doesn’t want her to tire herself out, ever!

she doesn’t need to walk around all the time because her stevie’s here and he won’t have his baby do unnecessary work when he’s around. whenever he grabs her waist and places her on top of a counter or something and stands between her legs? she gets all smiley. steve also absolutely loves how clearly his touch affects her; she hums and melts into him and gets a bit breathless and just tries to bury herself into him until they become one. lots of cuddles and hugs from behind and just being entirely wrapped in each other while wearing the coziest sweaters under the cuddliest blanket are common occurrences.

the main thing, though… is how steve’s shy little girlfriend quickly becomes obsessed with his bulge. loves when her stevie hugs her from behind so it presses against her, or when he has her sit between his legs with her back to his chest, or any time where her stevie is holding her close. he doesn’t even need to be hard for her to enjoy it, i mean, he shows through his jeans even when he’s soft! and she just always thinks it looks so…soft? and chubby? and she just wants it smushed against her at all times.

it takes steve a while to figure it out, but when he does? he’s relentless! pressing up against his baby all. the. fucking. time. just to see her blush and stutter and get all shy… but she also fucking sighs and relaxes whenever he does it, like it’s such a comfort for her? to feel all of him? like it’s all she’s waiting for at all times. and it drives steve crazy how his cute, shy, introverted, virgin girlfriend who giggles all the time and is always flustered by him and hiding her hot cheeks with her hands and is so… clumsy and tentative and nervous when it comes to any sort of affection (which she only accepts from her stevie) ((she definitely hates touch except his)) (((and he knows it too! was one of the things that proved to him his pretty best friend had feelings for him too when they were ‘just friends’))) can be so desperate to feel his bulge against her.

angel also loves that her stevie boy has huge hands! absolutely massive. could-wrap-one-hand-around-your-entire-neck massive, beautiful, strong, soft hands.. and yeah, both steve and his girl definitely have huge size kinks. huge. they haven’t said so out loud yet, but it shows through their actions. steve loves how obvious the size difference is when they’re holding hands, or when his hand is on her soft thighs. most of the time his baby holds his fingers instead because it hurts a little bit to intertwine their fingers for too long and steve thinks it’s fucking adorable. she’s shorter too, so 😵‍💫 her sweet boy goes crazy. teasing, best friend steve comes out sometimes too when he uses her head as an armrest to tease her, or when he full on picks her up to take her somewhere if she’s being a brat or is too lazy, too tired to move.

steve’s angel loves their size difference. so much. it shows when she hides herself against his chest when it’s cold, when she compares hand sizes because “stevie, the difference is just insane!”, when steve smushes her into the mattress when they start fucking later on. steve notices his angel blush or sigh or break out in goosebumps whenever his hands are involved— i mean, can you blame her? his hands are so pretty. she’s always holding and touching and tracing her fingertips over his palms and pressing kisses, biting softly, sucking on his fingers when she’s restless, fidgety, or sleepy.

using steve as a weighted blanket is a must; helps angel when she’s anxious or having a bad day.

to be continued…

── harmo’s footnotes:

please remember to show your support by reblogging!

masterlist. steve dreams.

ghostlyfleur © — all rights reserved. do not repost, copy, or translate.

[patricia-taxxon]

cw: venting about some drama that happened on twitter that many of you were likely not present for, and my very personal solipsistic emotional reaction to it that many of you will find annoying.

So every once in a while, people (normies) rediscover this furry musician called Pent Up Pup, who is a fan of me i think, so I need to be nice. To describe them with complete neutrality, they make music that is completely filled with memes and signifiers of furry kink erotica to the point of parody, and they invite a huge amount of derision like you'd expect. This particular drama storm was triggered by their new song, and it aroused a lot of negative emotions in me, which i'll go through from least to most self-centered.

So firstly, through being so audacious, Pent Up Pup has managed to become the default furry musician through which all discourse flows, normies treat them like the final boss. Everyone needed to have a take, but even more people saw this as an opportunity to bring them down in favor of someone else. Some poor furry rapper called $LEAZY EZ got caught in the crossfire, and her snippet that she uploaded got met with "see? finally some GOOD furry music, this is way better than the one other furry musician I know." And like, yea I'd absolutely produce and mix an entire mixtape for her at no charge, but she had a right to be upset that her big viral break was in service of a bunch of leeches one-upping another creator in the space she was trying to integrate with.

But worse, the main response to her snippet was just... "Oh, finally, furry music that isn't white boy EDM." And like, Pent Up Pup isn't white and imo is way more aligned with alt-rock/britpop, they're just imagining a minority that agrees with them. But also, the more self centered part of me just wants to ask "what about me?" Like imo I'm one of the best in the world at the specific thing I do, and it's not white boy EDM.

And furthermore, in response, every furry musician on twitter has been eager to defend their friend and say that trash talking Pup and uplifting someone else doesn't work when everyone in the scene knows each other. "Don't you know? We're a tight knit community!" And to this I feel a combination of petulant annoyance and RSD, because I have been trying to be a part of that scene and failing for a long time now. Like, I tried integrating into the community when I was first gearing my music in that direction & tried sending my music to the failed beta version of Aural Aliance, and Rinny turned down my track (it was the then unreleased beast / creature) because it had autotune in it. They apologized later (thankfully) and offered me a spot, but like, half of their lineup and also the people organizing the events have me blocked over callout stuff, so I just ghosted them. I've mostly been watching this huge unfair drama storm unfold, making me feel talked over, but then I also have to watch this community that ostracized me band together and show their unyielding comradery while everyone just sidesteps past me in the conversation. I warned you that this would be self centered.

[vaguely-concerned]

obsessed with the fact that if you choose the last purple option in lucanis' romance chat before going off to tearstone island ("they MOVED the MOON!!!" still in the running for the best delivery in the whole game btw it's so ineffably hilarious to me), it's rook who flinches away just a little bit (if still warmly <3) and tries to change the topic and lucanis who's steady even though he's clearly still so afraid. 'don't tempt fate'/'*the softest fucking voice you've ever heard in your entire life* I don't intend to'. pain and suffering

lucanis looking at rook and helplessly, with a wonder that verges on despair, saying 'what would I do without you?' is soooo. especially at that point in the relationship and with what's about to happen. and for whatever reason rook can't quite stay with the fact that they do mean that much to someone, that they are so reverently and so groundingly 'I want to know what your favourite food is so I can make it for you any time you want it' everyday loved, it's too much and they have to deflect from it or the fear of losing it. can say some very interesting things about them, too.

(there is also a Pattern in that in my estimation lucanis frequently responds better to inviting humour than to earnest shows of concern -- it seems to help him be more engaged/online to be offered that more neutral space to meet you in and uh 'build' the conversation around something funny together than to be confronted with compassion head-on because that clearly mostly deer-in-the-headlights him, as we also see with some of the early flirt options haha. contrast this especially with bellara, who repeatedly gets genuinely upset if you try to make light of some pressing and painful situation she's dealing with (girl I'm so sorry I'm so jestercore and I canot change this but I'll try :'( for you). I think the times lucanis reacts negatively to the purple options are much more about you siding with other (frequently more charismatic lol) people against him or throwing him under the bus interpersonally -- like seeming to go along with illario's charm offensives, or telling teia lucanis didn't want to come help out with caterina's funeral and he'd just sit alone and brood about it if you didn't force him (???!!! hello??? unprovoked and deeply unkind out of left field???? this option is so fucking MEAN and for what fhdaskjfa you're telling me there's no way for rook to be a bit of a dick in this game?)

when it's one on one conversation he consistently seems to find it quite comforting, though... which makes a lot of sense because in many ways it's how he interacts with illario, just shorn of the resentments and hidden daggers and things they Do Not Talk About but really should beneath the levity that makes it sharp. it's gone ugly between them, but I think the affectionate instinct beneath is real and goes back a long way before all of that festered -- it's a form of play he does with people he loves. and uh. not really caterina huh. notably.)

[chantillyxlacey]

i've seen a lot of takes (i am using the word 'take' absolutely neutrally here; and i'm specifying neutrality bc i have started to see that word as having inherently negative connotations in this context and i have no idea if that's just a Me Problem but i figured specificity couldn't hurt)

okay, that got away from me, let me start again

i've seen a lot of takes about The Damsel that have to do with idealization being another kind of dehumanization and how she's Like She Is because you/TLQ are projecting a fantasy onto her and sanding away any traits that don't fit into that fantasy and rendering her into little more than a vessel for your/TLQ's wish fulfillment

and i don't necessarily think that's *wrong* either-- but i think that's also not the complete picture, and that only looking that that half of the image does kind of tend to paint TLQ in an unfairly bad light

because the thing is, in The Damsel's route, TLQ is ALSO being reduced to an archetype just as much as The Damsel herself is! The Princess becomes the quintessential fairytale fair-maiden-in-distress that exists only to be rescued by a knight-in-shining-armor; and TLQ-- if you allow them to be guided entirely by The Smitten-- becomes that quintessential fairytale knight-in-shining-armor that only exists to rescue the fair-maiden-in-distress

The Damsel says over and over, explicitly, that "I just want to make you happy!" and The Smitten in this route is equally preoccupied with making HER happy-- he even says it directly if you start deconstructing her. every other part of his identity has been subsumed to revolve entirely around her just as much as the reverse is true for her.

(speaking of the Deconstructed Damsel, i've also seen Smitten's reaction to that touted as him not caring about her agency-- but again, i always read that as him being unable to see any flaws in her rather than being pleased with the idea of her being biddable, specifically. if you halt the deconstruction his reaction is "she's ALWAYS been perfect" -- he'd think that no matter what she did or said, because his identity revolves around her the exact way that hers revolves around him/TLQ)

even the actions that lead to HEA fit into this, i think-- i read that moment as less The Smitten lashing out at her because she didn't live up to his fantasy-- it still happens even after she's said "i guess we can stay, if that's what you want"-- she's giving The Smitten what he wants, but he's still distressed because SHE'S not happy

i think it's more The Smitten feeling that HE hadn't lived up to HIS half of their shared fantasy. if she's not happy with the idea of "all we need is each other" then it must be because HE failed somehow. if she needs or wants more than him, it must be because HE is not enough.

if he was just better at playing his part, if he just offered her more, if he was just clearer about his devotion--

"if we just showed her the contents of our heart, she'd be happy"

that's not to say that what The Smitten does in HEA isn't incredibly toxic for both of them-- it definitely is, and it clearly makes both the Princess and TLQ miserable. "everything she doesn't know she wants" is a bad mindset to approach a relationship with, whether that mindset is reached through controlling selfishness or a desperation to appease (and i definitely think Smitten is motivated by the latter-- it's no coincidence that we arrive at HEA through a literal and fatal act of self mutilation)

he's definitely the antagonist of HEA, in that he is what TLQ and the Princess and the player need to overcome, but he's not a VILLAIN (which i think is most clearly illustrated in the moment where the Princess admits she's unhappy, that she's never been happy here, and his reaction is to GIVE UP instead of lash out harder)

i never got the sense that The Smitten was ever putting any blame on The Damsel-- he always considered *himself* to be the problem-- he puppeteers TLQ just as much as he does the Princess, even if we can't hear him while she can, and he asks TLQ/the player through her "isn't this enough? isn't this what you wanted?"

which in and of itself is an unhealthy way to approach a relationship-- blaming oneself for every bit of conflict or lapse in synchronicity is just as harmful as laying all the blame on the other person. there IS no blame-- sometimes people disagree or have conflicting needs or desires, and that's not anybody's "fault" because that's just how people and relationships WORK.

...can you believe i wrote out all of this when my original intention was to lay out an entirely different point about a read on The Damsel/HEA routes that wasn't about relationships at all?

OKAY!

THAT GOT AWAY FROM ME LET ME START AGAIN

so i don't think that looking at The Damsel/HEA through a lens of "what does this say about relationships and expectations and respecting other people's agency" is incorrect-- clearly i have a lot of thoughts about that lens!

but i wanted to offer another one that i haven't seen yet:

The Damsel/HEA route as a commentary on what makes a satisfying narrative

if you play out The Damsel route just single-mindedly taking actions to free her-- it's kinda dull, isn't it? like-- it's not without its charms! The Smitten is silly and entertaining and the Narrator's exaggerated pettiness is very funny! but ultimately, that's about it.

potential sources of conflict are brushed aside-- if you took the blade with you, you just drop it and it gets forgotten; the Damsel's hand slips right out of the manacle with no effort or harm; when the Narrator locks the basement door, every 'choice' you make just magically unlocks it right away. and then you're outside, what you wanted to do from the start. ...so what do we do now?

nothing, actually. the chapter ends, and there is no chapter 3. the game itself continues, but that ending feels about as substantial as the Narrator's "Good Ending" where you follow his instructions without question and accomplish his goal immediately.

if you DON'T take either of the actions that lead to one of Damsel's chapter 3's, there's very little variation in The Damsel's story-- pretty much all of it comes down to slight differences in dialogue. there's no "the princess kills you" outcome. the closest thing to an alternate end to The Damsel is if you deconstruct her-- and even then, it feels like less an "alternate route" and more like-- a cheeky acknowledgement of the lack of substance, because that isn't a bug, it's a feature!

but if you introduce conflict-- either in the more direct sense by slaying The Damsel or in the more interpersonal sense by highlighting a mis-match in her and TLQ's desires-- suddenly the story opens up! there are a bunch of new possibilities and a bunch of new outcomes, and all of them are more interesting than "you achieve your goal with trivial effort, hooray!"

Even if you wind up finishing HEA on a note that is superficially very similar to the easy end of The Damsel's route-- you leave hand in hand with her, the narrator conceding defeat, and the last image of her before TSM takes her is a warm, tender smile-- it FEELS so much more like a genuine happy ending-- even though the Princess' face is still streaked and stained from her tears. BECAUSE of that.

it's one of the most heartwarming moments in the game, and one that has made me misty eyed every time i've seen it, and it's BECAUSE of the conflict you had to go through to get there.

conflict is what drives a compelling narrative, is the takeaway. it precludes PERFECT endings, perhaps, but not happy endings-- it's what makes those imperfect happy endings feel substantial and earned.

even the dinner and the board game contribute to the idea-- the description of the food is some really lovely writing, to the point where i sat through and listened to it all again even though i knew nothing really happens during it-- but *nothing really happens during it*. it doesn't move the narrative forward-- you're just as hungry as you were when you started. it just stalls the story in place, and every time you go through it again it's less satisfying until it's outright unpleasant. the description of the meal also notably gets simpler each time, and less detailed-- there's only so much that you can say about it before you run out of things to describe.

the board game is similar-- the way that it's described the first time you play even sounds like the description of an exciting story! and then the board resets, and you do it all again just the same. and so on. the game/story stops being exciting and the wins or losses stop feeling like they mean anything-- because is conflict really conflict, is a challenge really a challenge, if you're always tracing the same path, always making moves where you already know the outcome? it becomes "a slog towards the end"

and this is how i tie the idea of "what Damsel/HEA has to say about relationships" and "what Damsel/HEA has to say about narratives" together:

ultimately, the statements can be summarized the same way "whether in a narrative or a relationship, 'perfection' is unattainable, but you wouldn't actually want it anyway"

conflict, substance, variety

in a relationship there will always be differences of opinion, differing goals etc-- variety between the members of the relationship, knowing and sharing this substantial and non-superficial information about one another, navigating the resultant conflict-- that's what allows the relationship to grow and deepen, and what allows the people in it to grow as individuals as well.

in a narrative, or in Narratives, as a whole, conflict is what makes things HAPPEN, substance makes them feel like what happens MATTERS, like something is being communicated, variety means that you're learning or considering something new-- and those are what make a narrative capable of impacting a person, of changing them, of being remembered

[a-driftamongopenstars]

alright, i finally finished Dragon Age the Veilguard.

tldr; 3/10. I didn't like it.

If you enjoyed the game and would rather keep enjoying it, please don't click the read more section as what follows is rather critical.

I can finally sit down with my thoughts and put them together in a more cohesive structured review, touching on most things that I wanted to address. I'll start with positives and then focus on the negatives.

Warning, this is VERY long.

Overall, I had a neutral to negative impression of DatV, which got worse by the end of the game. It had some good moments, but they were entirely unexplored and underutilized, suffering from bad writing. While the game itself is rather pretty, it didn't outweigh the dialogues, the stories and the lore butchering that took place.

1. Environment and visuals. 8/10.

I think Veilguard is a very beautiful game. I enjoyed exploring the corners of this new world, the little bits of environment design and storytelling that it had. It felt magical, certain locations were mesmerizing! I couldn't stop staring at the valley where you go to with Harding, the carcass of a titan.

2. Combat. 9/10.

I love flashy combat, I enjoy hack and slash, so until the very end of the game I was having most fun in combat. Yes there was repetitiveness but I tried to combat (hehe) it with changing my abilities and weapons every now and then. I liked combos and I liked timed parries. Enemy tactics got a bit boring by the end, but a few enemies still surprised me and challenged me.

.... That's where positives end. Now on to the negatives.

1. Characters. 2/10.

I don't understand what happened. Almost all the characters in this game were tuned down to a two-dimensional personality, "good" and "bad" - and absolutely no nuance. This happened not only to the villains, but to the different NPCs and even our companions. Their interests got narrowed down to single points of interest (Lucanis and coffee being a prime example to me), their motivations got watered down.

This is not what I expect from a Bioware game. I want to be challenged, I want to dislike characters or approve of their choices. I like characters who are messy and complex and don't always have their shit together.

I like villains who may have other reasons for their choices, other than "ba ha ha, I am so evil and I will do evil things". Where is Alexius who sold himself to the Elder one, just so he could save his beloved son? Where is Samson, forsaken by the Chantry and turned to red lyrium with his addiction? Where is Calpernia, misguided in her choices, just to free the slaves of Tevinter?

Where are the slaves of Tevinter anyway?? That's another topic.

2. Rook. 4/10.

On one hand, I liked playing Rook. They were stoic but with a humorous side, ready to get the job done, compassionate to other people.

The problem is that it's the only Rook you can really play. The protagonist is set in their ways and their dialogues and there is very little to roleplay. Rook really does feel like a gentle manager, trying to get everyone to play along nicely, while providing therapy every now and then, and is excluded from the majority of friendly interactions with other people. That awkward glance everyone gives you after their banter is embarrassing. The way you can third wheel people, the way the game actively offers you to leave a couple of animated conversations between other people - why even include those? Why not make Rook a part of the 'team'?

I did like Rook's dynamic with Solas. They got to see a different side of him, one that's not presented heavily in Inquisition. But like everything else, it felt surface level and underexplored.

3. Story arc. 2/10.

I am left unsatisfied with the story. The pacing threw me off so much nearly every quest, it was hard to stay on track. From "we need to solve this NOW" to "actually, let's all slow down and deal with our problems", the plot's priorities were all over the place. We kept hearing about the gods and their destructive oppression, but we saw surprisingly little of it. Yes, there was the Blight, yes there were Venatori and the Antaam, but they felt more like a video game fodder and dressing rather than a part of the story.

Not to mention that all of those things made little sense to me. Why would the gods align with aforementioned factions? Why would the aforementioned factions align with the elven gods? In-game explanation was not enough for me, it did not make sense. Not with the established lore in the previous games.

I also did not enjoy the ending. While the idea of Solas binding himself to the Veil is good and does make sense, what was suggested as the good ending (inviting Mythal to deal with Solas essentially) actually left me feeling awful. I sent a man, full of regrets and self-loathing, on a lonely journey to figure himself out. That... did not sit right with me at all. Neither did the fact that Northern Thedas, supposedly the point of the gods' attack, gets to live and flourish, while Southern Thedas is dying of starvation and blight. That is UNHINGED to me.

4. Music. 1/10.

There was no music. I remember one track. It was not memorable whatsoever and I can't believe they hired Hans Zimmer to do exactly nothing. Just wow.

5. Lore. ???/10.

And here is the worst offender. What was done with Dragon Age lore is unacceptable. I was doing a head-in-hands every five minutes. This was a slap in the face of so many fans who enjoyed the three prior games and delved into deep, interesting lore of various races, countries, cultures and religions. Veilguard showed a big middle finger to all that.

Everyone has already touched upon the sanitization of different factions. From the suddenly slaveless Tevinter to found family Antivan Crows, everything has been scrubbed clean and made sweet and palatable and "good".

The Dalish clans have been removed from existence as we know them. The Antaam left the Qun? Don't even get me started on that. The Chantry has no influence in this game? Really? The Chantry? The biggest religion in Thedas? The one that we know has heavy presence in the Anderfels, the Black Divine in Tevinter? That Chantry?

I think it really hit me how disrespectful the game is during the quest of saving the Dalish elves, where apparently Elgar'nan's Venatori, uplifted to be his servants and chosen people, were trying to sacrifice them. It's a gross and oddly telling idea that the ancient Elven god turned to a faction of racist mages to sacrifice elven people. I actually can't believe I'm writing this. Just how much are you going to shaft these people? Mindboggling.

There is a lot more I have to say on this specific topic, and I probably will later, but the idea is this.

6. Romances. 2/10.

Whoever said this is a game with romance lied so hard. So hard. The romance was atrocious. From the badly written flirting to the lack of romantic scenes (I romanced Davrin), to the poorly timed and awkward 'final' romance moment... It was atrocious. I felt no connection between Rook and Davrin beyond what game was telling me. My actual companions got more screen time with their romances than me and my LI.

Damn, even Evka and Antoine, my single most beloved NPCs in this game, had more romance going on that my Rook.

---

All in all, Veilguard was a massive let down. After having enjoyed the first 3 games many times over, with multiple playthroughs, I was so excited to see how the story of the Inquisition, of the elves, would end. When I saw the first trailer for VG, I knew I would never get to see it. When I played the game, I was left with disappointment and disdain.

I'm glad there are people who enjoyed this game, genuinely. I'm sure there's something to find for anyone, but it was not for me. Nor was it for many other people. It was a let down. I feel like I'll never get the conclusion I wanted - so I'll have to write my own I guess.

I have more thoughts on this game that I might be sharing, but for now this is the review I wanted to write. Thanks for reading!

[midnight-in-town]

Was Donovan trying to read the mind of his family members ?

Like some fans, I believe Donovan's scars on both sides of his forehead (which he didn't have as a kid, as we know thanks to Henderson's flashback) are proof that he had some sort of neurosurgery.

Some fans say it was to suppress unecessary emotions : he indeed only ever reacts neutrally, positively or negatively, using a few basic emotions like judgement, acknowledgement and disappointment (both in ch106 and ch38).

However, I'm also of the opinion that Donovan has a big link to the organization that experimented on Anya and maybe that neurosurgery was meant to give him "mind-reading" powers, similar to Anya's.

After all, he did say two things of the utmost importance to his characterization :

So basically “you can’t trust anyone but yourself”.

As such, thematically it makes sense that he's Twilight's entire mission, but also, as a man with so much distrust, he would definitely be interested in a project that would allow a peak into other people's thoughts.

Demetrius is also a good hint as to what could be up with Donovan :

The son Donovan used to be so invested in seems very similar to his father (my God, his eyes), but when Anya tried to hear his thoughts ?

What she rather got was that "pondering [about not understanding people] is a waste of time" for him. So maybe, when they used to spend time together, Donovan showed a lot of distrust towards his own son and taught him to trust no one, so much that Demetrius started to believe all people are an enigma to him.

And that makes sense : children learn from their parents' example, in most cases (take Anya with Twilight and Yor). So if your father is a man who hardcore believes everyone else lies, how would his son understand all the moratively complex dynamics that exist between many people ? Avoiding to think altogether would be less of a headache, for sure.

Lastly, Donovan's reaction about the family dinner is another good hint he maybe has mind reading powers : Melinda tried once to chat but quickly gave up, while Damian spent the entire meal mustering the courage to speak up, so what could decidedly be interesting since nothing was said ?

However if things were thought during dinner... well, it sure would give a different reading to this scene.

Bonus #1 : since Twilight's entire life is based on a lie (his name, his work, his family, maybe even his father, who knows), it makes absolute sense that the entire plot is about deciphering what Donovan and his plans are about.

The fact he keeps on getting emotionally trapped by four year old Anya, who can read his mind, makes it instantly ten times more intense if Donovan now also has mind reading powers.

Bonus #2 : the only other important character in the narrative, besides Anya, who is aware that mind reading is real is Damian.

He doesn't believe in it yet, but once he does, it's likely that his friendship with Anya will eventually make Damian realize a lot about what his father has been up to (in the meantime, Yor please, give Miranda the desire to fight for her sons' safety).

TL;DR maybe Donovan has (recent ?) mind reading powers (I'd even add Sigmund Authen's past as an esteemed neurology professor is related to the whole shenanigan).

The family dinner was just a way to make extra sure that no one in his family is plotting against him, hence the bodyguards at home, because how more dysfunctional can it get ?

[slytherinsmuse]

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ Between Us | Draco Malfoy ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem! Reader

Warnings: mentions of smoking, not proofread, characters are 18+

Summary: Fluff | A secret kiss with Draco turns into scandalous rumor.

Word count: 6496

author's note: I wrote this a while ago and it has been sitting in my docs forever. Hope you enjoy, it is quite tame. I love Pansy but had to use her negatively for this lol.

The Slytherin common room buzzed with quiet, crackling energy, the kind of whispered tension that always followed a Sorting Ceremony. Shadows flickered along the walls, cast by greenish firelight as the newly sorted students settled into their house. Yet, for you, the warmth of the room felt far from welcoming.You sat alone on a plush, emerald-green couch near the edge of the common room, attempting to focus on the shifting patterns in the fireplace. But despite your best efforts, the constant hum of whispered voices and stolen glances in your direction kept pulling you back to reality.

They all knew.

The rumor had spread like fiendfyre, whispered from ear to ear as though it were some priceless secret. Draco Malfoy and you—seen in a compromising position over the summer, tucked away from prying eyes but apparently not hidden well enough. A secret kiss. Hands in places they shouldn’t have been, displays of affection best suited for the privacy of a room, or at least, that’s how the story had been embellished.You knew exactly where they’d all heard it—from Pansy Parkinson. After all, she had opened her mouth as soon as students had set foot on the train to Hogwarts.

Pansy had always been a thorn in your side, though not by your choice. You weren’t even sure what you’d done to earn her ire; you hardly gave her much thought, and yet she never missed a chance to remind you of her presence. Maybe it was the fact that you had never bent to her snide remarks, or maybe it was that Draco would, on rare occasions, acknowledge you—a simple greeting, an offhand comment about class, a carefully crafted compliment from time to time. Nothing you’d ever taken to mean more, but it had clearly gotten under Pansy’s skin.

For Pansy, it was more than rivalry; it was a personal mission to best you, even if you had never actually joined the game.

And this time, she’d gone out of her way to humiliate you. You were certain she hadn’t just “let it slip” like she claimed. No, she had fed the rumor, stoking it into something larger and more scandalous than it actually was. She’d likely watched with satisfaction as the story spread from person to person until it was whispered in every corridor, every corner of the Slytherin dungeon. The scandal was all anyone could talk about, a new shiny present for the first day of school. Pansy had taken a single, hidden moment and transformed it into a spectacle—a kiss that wasn’t meant for anyone else’s eyes or ears, a small sliver of warmth you’d never expected to find. But now, that moment was tangled with the bitterness of betrayal, tainted by Pansy’s scheming. The entire school knew what had happened that night, twisted by Pansy’s jealousy into something cheap and tawdry.

And the worst part? She was watching you, even now, smirking from across the room, clearly basking in the havoc she’d sown. You kept your expression neutral, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a reaction, but inside, anger simmered low and steady. She might have won this round, but she didn’t know everything. The real memory—the feeling of his hand on yours, the brief escape that had led to that kiss—belonged only to you and Draco.

You could almost hear her voice behind every stare—a hint of triumph mixed with resentment, the sound of it dripping with thinly veiled bitterness. Ever since, everyone seemed to be watching you, judging you, eager to see if the rumors would continue to spark. Just then, the common room door creaked open, and a familiar figure strode in.

Draco Malfoy.

He scanned the room, his gaze as icy and unreadable as ever. For a fleeting moment, his eyes met yours across the crowded room. There was a flicker of something in his gaze—something unspoken, something only you would understand. You weren’t sure if it was regret, amusement, or something else altogether. But before you could even think to react, he turned away, breaking the moment as quickly as it had begun. He crossed the room with his usual elegance, coolly ignoring the whispers, the glances, the tension that only he and you seemed to fully understand. You took a shaky breath, willing yourself to remain calm, and looked back into the fire, your mind already drifting to that night at Malfoy Manor, where it had all begun.

~~~

The grand, looming gates of Malfoy Manor opened before you, casting an intimidating shadow over the path as you arrived with your parents. You stayed close to them, more out of obligation than comfort, knowing that if it were up to you, you’d be anywhere but here. Official gatherings like these always felt stifling—a room full of people dressed in their finest suits and gowns, exchanging veiled pleasantries and flaunting their wealth in subtle but pointed ways. You were expected to fit right in, to play the part as seamlessly as they did. But the truth was, you hated every second of it.It wasn’t that you resented your family or your status—it was simply exhausting. The endless social games, the forced politeness, and the insincerity of it all wore on you, weighing you down like a set of invisible chains. But that was the cost of your family name, and like it or not, you were bound by it.

As you stepped through the manor’s doors and into the grand entrance hall, you plastered on the same polite smile you always wore at these events. Elegant tapestries lined the walls, and every surface gleamed with an almost exaggerated richness, reminding you of the status that the Malfoys prided themselves on. Tonight, they were hosting, and every detail was perfect, as it always was. The hosts themselves awaited just beyond the doorway: Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, flanked by their son, Draco. Your parents greeted them first, exchanging the usual pleasantries with voices dipped in formal tones, before it was your turn.

“Lovely to see you again,” Narcissa said, her voice smooth and gracious, as if she’d rehearsed it a hundred times.

“Thank you for inviting us,” you replied, inclining your head politely, catching Draco’s gaze just for a second. His expression was as reserved as ever, though you thought you detected a flicker of boredom in his eyes—something you could relate to.

With the greetings over, you politely excused yourself, weaving through the crowd toward the bar. If you were going to make it through this night, a drink was essential. A firewhiskey, to be precise. As you reached the bar, you nodded to the bartender and murmured your order. The firewhiskey appeared before you almost instantly, amber liquid glistening in the dim candlelight. You took a long sip, feeling its warmth spread through you—a small comfort in an otherwise dreary evening.

You glanced around, watching the crowd move and mingle. People laughed, their voices tinkling like crystals, but you could sense the undercurrent of calculation behind every word. Families like yours, bound by tradition and expectations, each with their own reputation to uphold. You couldn’t imagine spending the entire evening like this, dancing around meaningless small talk with people who barely saw you beyond your family name.

With your drink in hand, you headed towards an empty couch tucked along the side of the room, half-hidden behind a potted tree with sprawling, leafy branches. It looked comfortable enough, and more importantly, it was out of the way—far from the watchful eyes of your family and the eager whispers of the guests who always seemed far too interested in every move you made.

You crossed the room quietly, weaving through clusters of people, careful not to draw attention. When you finally reached the couch, you sank into it with a relieved sigh, grateful for the brief reprieve. From here, you had a clear view of the dance floor, which was filled with couples swaying to the soft music drifting through the room. The dim lighting gave the scene a kind of dreamy, almost surreal quality.

The last thing you wanted was to be dragged out onto that floor, under the scrutinizing gaze of the entire ballroom. Your family was notorious for presenting you at events like this, encouraging you to mingle and, worse, dance with any boy they deemed suitable. It wasn’t about you, of course; it was about appearances, about showing that the heir of the Y/L/N family was sociable, poised, a proper pure-blood with all the right qualities.

But you didn’t care about any of that. You despised the dances, despised the forced politeness and the looks that always followed you as you were paraded around. People here seemed to watch you as if you were some sort of rare creature—a curiosity to be studied and judged. It felt suffocating, like you couldn’t move without someone taking notice, without someone passing silent judgement.

All you wanted was to make it through the evening with the fewest interactions possible.

Sipping the last of your firewhiskey, you leaned back into the couch, hoping you could remain here, unnoticed and undisturbed. You kept a careful eye on the dance floor, looking out for any sign of your parents. If they noticed you here, alone and sitting out the dance, they’d undoubtedly “introduce” you to some eligible heir from another pure-blood family. It was their favorite tactic to keep up appearances, and you dreaded the moment it might happen tonight.

As you watched, the dancers spun and swayed under the dim glow of the chandeliers, laughter and idle chatter filling the air. The perfect picture of refined elegance. But you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling of restlessness, the sense that you didn’t belong in this world of masks and formalities. You yearned to slip out, to find a corner of the manor where you could breathe without the weight of everyone’s expectations.

You glanced to the side, and for a moment, you thought you saw a familiar face watching you from across the room. Draco, leaning casually against the wall near the dance floor, his gaze fixed on you. He seemed to be in a similar predicament, observing the crowd with a mixture of disdain and detachment. And, if you weren’t mistaken, there was a hint of amusement in his eyes as they met yours.

He smirked, raising his glass in a silent toast, as if acknowledging the shared struggle of enduring an evening like this. You allowed yourself a small smile, nodding back, appreciating the rare moment of understanding.

But just as you were about to settle back into the couch, you caught sight of your mother in the distance, scanning the room—her gaze already narrowing in on you, and you had a sinking feeling she had someone in mind to “introduce” you to. You quickly turned away, hoping she might be distracted by another guest before she reached you, silently praying that you could just stay hidden in your quiet corner.

The last thing you needed tonight was to be pulled into the crowd, forced into more polite interactions, or worse—a dance.

Just as you’d feared, your mother was making a beeline toward you, her arm linked with that of none other than Gregory Goyle. Fantastic. Of all the people she could have chosen, she had to bring him over. Goyle wasn’t exactly unpleasant, but he was far from your idea of ideal company. Throughout school, you’d barely spoken beyond the occasional forced interaction in Potions, and you both had an unspoken agreement to keep out of each other’s way. But tonight, it seemed that the silent truce was about to be tested.

“Y/N,” your mother said with a broad, practiced smile, “I thought you might like to meet young Mr. Goyle. He’s been telling me about his plans for the future, and I thought it would be nice for the two of you to catch up.” Her eyes were expectant, practically daring you to say something pleasant.

You forced a polite smile, nodding at Goyle, who looked equally uncomfortable, his collar slightly too tight and his expression blank as ever.

“Nice to see you, Goyle” you managed, hoping that a few words would satisfy your mother.

But of course, she wasn’t finished. “I was just telling him how much you enjoy dancing.” she continued, her gaze shifting between you and Goyle with thinly veiled encouragement. “I’m sure you’d love a dance with him.”

Your stomach twisted as you imagined the stilted, silent dance that would inevitably follow. A dance with Goyle was the last thing you wanted, and you opened your mouth to politely decline, scrambling for any excuse that wouldn’t offend him or your mother.

Just then, a voice cut smoothly into the conversation. “Actually, Mrs. Y/L/N,” Draco said, his tone impeccably polite, “Y/N has already promised me the first dance.”

You turned, surprised but profoundly relieved to see Draco standing there with an easy, confident smile. His eyes met yours for a brief moment, and you caught the faintest flicker of mischief in his gaze. He offered his hand to you, waiting with the quiet assurance of someone who knew he would not be refused.

Your mother looked taken aback for a second, her plan clearly derailed. But she recovered quickly, nodding with approval. “Well, isn’t that lovely,” she said, her gaze shifting between the two of you with a hint of satisfaction. “Go on, then. Don’t let me keep you.”

You took Draco’s hand, internally cursing the fact that you now had to dance but still relieved to have avoided Goyle. As he led you toward the dance floor, you leaned in, muttering under your breath, “Thanks for that. I thought I was doomed.”

Draco chuckled softly, his hand settling around your waist as he guided you into the first steps of the waltz. “I figured you might need rescuing,” he replied, his voice low. “Besides, you looked like you’d rather disappear than dance with Goyle.”

“You’re right about that,” you admitted, feeling the warmth of his hand on your waist, the steady grip as he led you effortlessly across the floor. “But dancing’s not exactly my idea of fun either.”

He raised an eyebrow, an amused glint in his eyes. “I didn’t think you were the type to hate dancing.”

“It’s not the dancing I hate,” you muttered, glancing around at the people watching you—some with curiosity, others with envy. “It’s the audience.”

Draco smirked, steering you through the dance with ease. “Then ignore them. Just focus on me.”

You scoffed but allowed yourself to meet his gaze, letting the room around you blur into the background. It was easier said than done, but somehow, with his steadying presence, you found yourself relaxing, if only a little.

The music swelled around you, and for a few moments, you forgot about the crowd, the whispers, and the endless expectations pressing in from all sides. The world narrowed down to just you and Draco, moving in sync across the dance floor.

When the music finally slowed to a close, you realized you hadn’t once looked away from him. He released you with a small, almost reluctant smile, offering a polite bow as he stepped back.

“Well,” he said, his voice low and laced with something unreadable. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. “No… it wasn’t,” you murmured, feeling a bit of relief now that the dance was over. “But I’d rather not repeat it.”

Draco’s expression shifted slightly, a faint shadow crossing his face as he straightened up, his grip loosening just a bit. “Ah,” he said coolly, his tone clipped. “I’ll make sure not to inconvenience you next time.”

You blinked, realizing he’d misread your meaning. A soft chuckle escaped your lips, and you shook your head, amused at the unexpected flash of offense in his expression. “I didn’t mean you,” you said, placing a gentle hand on his arm to guide him away from the crowd. “I meant this whole… production.”

Draco’s face softened, and his smirk returned, the brief flash of irritation fading from his gaze. “Ah, well, in that case, allow me to make it up to you.” He inclined his head, leading you through the crowd and back toward the bar. “How about a drink to ease the suffering?”

You laughed softly. “Now that,” you said, settling beside him at the bar, “I won’t turn down.”

He ordered two firewhiskeys, and as the bartender slid the glasses across the polished counter, Draco raised his in a quiet toast. “To surviving our families and insufferable company.”

You clinked your glass against his, smiling. “You know, for the record, I actually like your company from time to time.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, looking pleasantly surprised. “Is that so? I suppose I’ll take that as a rare compliment.”

“Take it however you like,” you replied, amused. “But consider it a thank you for saving me back there.”

He chuckled, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. “Anytime,” he said, with a hint of something playful in his voice. “After all, we seem to be the only sane ones here tonight.”

You both settled into comfortable silence, sipping your drinks and watching the ballroom from your secluded corner. The firewhiskey was beginning to warm you from the inside, dulling the sharp edges of the night. You felt a slight buzz, a touch more adventurous than you’d felt before. You swirled your glass, savoring the last sip as you casually scanned the room once again.

That’s when you spotted Draco’s usual crowd huddled together near one of the large windows. Theodore, Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, and Blaise—all laughing and chatting, oblivious to anyone else. Pansy, however, seemed to be the exception. Every few moments, she cast a glance your way, her lips curling in a faint smirk whenever she caught sight of you and Draco sitting together.

You rolled your eyes, turning your attention back to Draco. He was watching the room with a quiet sort of ease, the ghost of a smirk still lingering on his face. You could see the way his gaze occasionally drifted over to his friends, yet he hadn’t made any move to join them. Instead, he remained here with you, seemingly content in your quiet corner, away from the crowd.

Curiosity got the best of you, and you found yourself glancing at him, trying to read the expression on his face. “Not to sound ungrateful,” you said, breaking the silence, “but aren’t your friends waiting for you?”

Draco tilted his head, meeting your gaze, his expression unreadable for a moment. “What, you mean that insufferable company?” he replied with a smirk, echoing his earlier toast. “Believe me, I’m doing myself a favor. I will see them enough in school next month.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Fair enough, but I’m sure Pansy would disagree. She’s been shooting daggers at me since we sat down.”

Draco’s smirk widened, and he took a casual sip of his drink. “Pansy’s always shooting daggers at someone. If it weren’t you, it would be Daphne or some poor soul she deemed unworthy.” He shrugged, his gaze drifting back to you, his eyes glinting with a hint of amusement. “Maybe tonight I just prefer the company here.”

His words sent a spark of warmth through you, and you found yourself meeting his gaze, letting the silence between you linger a bit longer than necessary. “Well,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, “I can’t say I mind. You’ve turned this night around a bit.”

Draco’s expression softened, and he leaned back, his gaze steady on yours. “Glad to be of service. It’s not every day I get to rescue a damsel from Goyle and the horrors of small talk.”

You laughed softly, feeling the edges of your reluctance and guardedness soften under the gentle buzz of the firewhiskey and Draco’s rare warmth. You weren’t exactly close with Draco—not in the way his friends were, and certainly not like Pansy always tried to be. Your families, though, had always maintained a certain closeness. Enough that you’d spent more than a few summer afternoons and winter evenings together over the years, learning to enjoy each other’s company in a way that felt natural outside the halls of Hogwarts.

In the tightly woven social fabric of Hogwarts,however,  you each belonged to your own worlds. He had his crowd, and you had yours. You only really crossed paths at the occasional party, or when forced together on a school project. Not that you minded. Draco was pleasant enough company, and you’d never deny that he was easy on the eyes. Not that you have ever thought about pursuing something with him. After the mess of your last relationship, you’d made a rule for yourself: no more romantic entanglements while at Hogwarts. It wasn’t worth the drama and the endless complications. Word had gotten around, of course, as it always did. It wasn’t long before people knew you were unreachable. Boys who once might have tried to chat you up quickly learned that you weren’t interested. You liked it that way; it was simpler, cleaner, and it meant you didn’t have to deal with the annoyances that had come with your last relationship.

But tonight… well, tonight was different. Maybe it was the firewhiskey, or maybe it was the way Draco was looking at you now, his usual cool exterior softening as he took you in. You raised an eyebrow, wondering what exactly was going through his mind.

“You look beautiful,” he said suddenly, his voice quieter than before. “I rarely see you so formal. It’s… a welcome change.”

A faint blush crept into your cheeks, and you chuckled softly, rolling your eyes. “Can’t say the same about you,” you replied, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “I mean you’re always dashing in these black suits. But you always seem to be wearing them. Don’t you ever get tired of it?”

He smirked, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve with a casual elegance that only seemed to amplify his charm. “Not everyone can pull off the classic look,” he said smoothly. “But I’ll take it as a compliment.”

You shook your head, amused by his confidence. “You would.”

Draco leaned in slightly, his eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite place. “I mean it, though. You should dress up more often.”

You shrugged, still smiling. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t even be here. I’d be home in my favorite old t-shirt.”

“Ah, but then I wouldn’t get to see you like this,” he said, his voice low, almost a murmur. There was a glint in his eyes, something warm and unexpectedly genuine that caught you off guard.

For a moment, you held his gaze, the soft glow of the firewhiskey warming you in more ways than one. You felt a flutter of something you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in a long time, a whisper of possibility you’d long sworn off. But just as quickly, you reminded yourself of your own rule—the boundary you’d set for yourself, the reason you were so guarded in the first place.

Still, you allowed yourself a small smile, letting the moment linger a second longer than necessary. “Enjoy it while it lasts, then,” you said, your voice light but your heart suddenly a little heavier.

Draco smirked, lifting his glass in a quiet toast. “Trust me—I intend to.”

A comfortable silence settled between you both, the kind that felt oddly intimate. Neither of you needed to fill it with idle chatter, and yet, the quiet left you with a strange sense of anticipation that made your heart race just a little faster.

After a few moments, you excused yourself, mumbling something about needing the bathroom. Really, you just needed a moment alone—to calm your nerves and shake off the slight fluster that Draco had somehow managed to provoke in you. His words, his appearance, the way he was looking at you… It was unsettling in the most unexpected way, breaking through that carefully constructed barrier you’d kept around yourself for so long.

You took a few deep breaths as you leaned over the sink, splashing a bit of cool water on your hands and pressing your fingertips to your temples. ‘Get a grip’ you told yourself, trying to steady the flutter in your chest. After a moment, you straightened, adjusted your silk gown, and composed yourself as best as you could before heading back out.

But as you opened the door, you found Draco standing there, his hands tucked into his pockets, looking for all the world like he’d been waiting for you. His expression softened as his eyes met yours, a hint of that same mischief dancing in his gaze.

“You alright?” he asked, his voice low.

You nodded, feeling a bit caught off guard. “I—yes, just needed a moment.”

Draco’s smirk widened, but he didn’t press. Instead, he glanced toward the crowd milling around in the ballroom, the faint music and laughter drifting through the hall. “Come on,” he said, his tone casual yet inviting. “Let’s get out of here for a bit. I know a place where we can actually breathe.”

Against your better judgement, you found yourself nodding. You knew you should probably decline, head back to the ballroom, and spend the rest of the night blending into the background as you’d planned. But something in the way Draco looked at you, the quiet invitation in his words, made you reconsider. And before you could think twice, you were following him down one of the manor’s winding, dimly lit corridors, away from the prying eyes and relentless whispers.

The path he took you down was secluded, lit only by soft candlelight and the faint silver glow of the moon streaming in from the high windows. You walked in silence, side by side, his hand occasionally brushing against yours as you rounded corners and ascended a narrow staircase. It was thrilling, a quiet adventure you hadn’t expected, and every step felt like it was drawing you deeper into a moment that belonged only to the two of you.

Finally, Draco led you to a small, secluded balcony overlooking the sprawling, moonlit gardens below. It was a beautiful view, with the manicured hedges and twinkling fountains stretching out beneath you. The night air was cool, and you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, enjoying the pleasant silence.

Draco leaned against the railing beside you, his gaze shifting from the gardens to you. “Better than the ballroom?” he asked, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You chuckled softly, nodding. “Much better. Thank you for this.”

He shrugged, his expression softening as he looked out over the gardens. “You looked like you needed an escape.”

Silence settled between you again, but it was different this time, layered with something deeper, something that seemed to linger in the space between you. The usual guardedness in Draco’s gaze had faded, replaced by something warm, almost vulnerable.

“Can I be honest with you?” he asked quietly, his voice barely more than a murmur.

You glanced at him, a bit startled by the sudden shift in his tone. “Of course.”

He paused, his gaze holding yours, and for a moment, he looked almost hesitant, as if weighing whether to say what was on his mind. Finally, he spoke, his voice soft yet steady. “I know we don’t… talk much at school. But I enjoy this, you know—being here with you. Away from everything.”

You felt your heart skip a beat, his words piercing through the careful walls you’d built. It was a simple confession, but something in the way he said it made it feel like a revelation, an acknowledgment of something you’d both felt but never voiced.

The vulnerability in his gaze, the quiet sincerity of his words… It was enough to make you forget, just for a moment, all the reasons you’d sworn off relationships, all the rules you’d set for yourself.

Without thinking, you reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

“I enjoy it too,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Draco’s gaze softened further, and for a fleeting moment, you thought he might close the distance between you. But he held back, his hand resting atop yours on the railing, fingers curling slightly around yours. The night was silent, the world narrowing down to just the two of you, standing together under the silver light of the moon.

Draco’s hand lingered on yours, his touch warm and grounding. He shifted slightly, his gaze still fixed on you, and in that heartbeat of silence, something shifted. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he stepped closer, his hand sliding from yours to your waist. The world around you seemed to fall away, leaving only the soft rustle of the night and the faint glow of the lights from the ballroom below.

You felt the cool press of the balcony railing against your back as he gently guided you closer, his face inches from yours. His breath was warm against your cheek, and every inch of you was acutely aware of the closeness, of the way his hand rested on your waist, holding you in place with a quiet, possessive strength.

His gaze drifted to your lips, and for a brief, heart-stopping moment, he hesitated—as if giving you the chance to pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, you let your eyes close, leaning into the moment, into him.

And then, softly, his lips met yours.

The kiss was slow, unhurried, each movement deliberate and intoxicating. His hand on your waist tightened slightly, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, his touch tender but undeniably possessive. You felt his other hand come up, fingertips grazing along your jawline, steadying you, anchoring you in the quiet thrill of the moment.

The world outside blurred into shadows, the lights from the ballroom casting faint glimmers across your entwined forms. You were nothing more than silhouettes, melting together under the faint glow of the night, every touch, every breath, grounding you in a reality that felt dreamlike.

Draco’s fingers traced gentle patterns along your waist, his lips moving against yours with a sensual, lingering intensity that left you breathless. You could feel his heartbeat quickening under your palm, mirroring your own. For a moment, it was just the two of you, caught in the stillness of the night, bodies pressed together, lost in the quiet passion of the kiss.

When you finally pulled back, both of you slightly breathless, he stayed close, his forehead resting against yours, his fingers still curled around your waist. The soft, unspoken intensity in his gaze sent a thrill through you, and you found yourself unable to look away.

“Was that against your rules that every boy seems to grumble about?” he murmured, his voice a hushed whisper, laced with quiet amusement and something deeper, something that made your heart race.

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling the last remnants of your guard slip away. “Maybe,” you whispered, your own voice barely audible. “But I think I’m willing to make an exception.”

Draco’s smirk softened, his hand brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. “Good,” he murmured, his thumb grazing your cheek as his other hand moved lower, resting on your behind. “Because I don’t think I’m quite finished with this evening.”

And as he leaned in to kiss you again, you knew, without a doubt, that neither were you.

Below, a few steps away from the garden path, Pansy stood with the rest of the group, her arms folded tightly across her chest. She tapped her foot impatiently, casting annoyed glances at Theo, who was still taking his time with his cigarette, chatting idly with Blaise and Goyle. They were laughing, nudging her now and then with teasing remarks about Draco, each comment only stoking her frustration.

Pansy barely paid them any attention, her mind focused solely on one thing: the fact that Draco hadn’t even spared her a second glance all evening. They were meant to be close—everyone knew it. She was supposed to be the one at his side, the one who caught his eye, but tonight, he hadn’t even acknowledged her. Glaring at Theo and the others, she ignored their snickering, shifting her gaze to the grand, towering structure of the manor, where the faint glow of candlelight spilled from the windows onto the balconies above. She tilted her head, scanning the empty stone terrace—when she froze.

Two silhouettes, unmistakable even from this distance, stood pressed close together on the far balcony, half-obscured in shadow but undeniably intimate. Her hands clenched at her sides as she watched, each movement between them driving another nail into her pride. She recognized Draco’s frame immediately, the way he leaned in, his hand lingering at the girl’s ass.

And then she knew. She knew who it was with him.

Y/N.

Her jaw tightened, her mind whirling with disbelief and raw, seething anger. It wasn’t just that he was with you—it was the way he was with you, the way his hand held you close, his body language tender in a way she’d never seen. Her eyes narrowed, a plan already beginning to form as she forced herself to look away.

She wouldn’t tell the others now—no, that would be too soon, and it would be too obvious. No, she’d wait. She’d bide her time, keeping this little secret to herself until the right moment came. And when it did, she’d let it slip so perfectly, so innocently, that everyone would know what had happened. She’d make sure the entire school knew just how unguarded you and Draco had been, exposing every secret look, every whispered conversation, and every stolen moment she could piece together. Satisfied, Pansy forced a smile, masking her fury as Theo finally finished his cigarette and turned to her, oblivious to the fire simmering behind her gaze.

In a month’s time, Hogwarts would know exactly what she’d seen tonight—and you and Draco would regret it.

~~~

The memory of that night on the balcony lingered as you pulled yourself back into the present. You tried to brush it off, but the details clung to you—the way Draco’s hand felt on your back, the steady press of his lips, the look in his eyes that hinted at something neither of you had been willing to admit.

And now, here he was, sitting across from you in the Slytherin common room, Pansy’s scathing gossip hanging in the air between you both. She was going on again, her voice sharp and smug, spinning the memory of that kiss into a scandalous tale that sounded so far from the truth it bordered on fantasy. Still, her words settled over you like a cloud, a reminder of just how easily that moment could spiral out of control in everyone else’s eyes.

Then, without warning, Draco cut her off.

“Maybe if you spent more time minding your own business, you’d actually have the details right,” he said, his tone calm but biting. His words stopped her cold, and he looked directly at her with a pointed, dismissive glare. “In fact, I really enjoyed it—and I’d do it over and over again if I could.”

A stunned silence fell over the common room. Heads turned, conversations dropped, and you could feel every pair of eyes fixated on you both. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, you wondered if Draco was serious or if he’d just thrown out those words to put Pansy in her place.

But when he glanced your way, you caught something in his expression—a flash of vulnerability, a quiet confidence that told you he wasn’t just trying to save face. He meant it.

You couldn’t meet his gaze for long, heat rushing to your face as you excused yourself abruptly and left, every nerve alive with confusion, anger, and something else you couldn’t name. You roamed the castle aimlessly until you found a quiet spot to escape the day’s relentless whispers. You leaned against the cool stone wall, letting the silence settle over you, trying to untangle your feelings.

“Y/N,” a familiar voice called softly, and you turned to see Draco standing there, his expression unreadable as he approached.

“What was that all about?” you demanded, your voice low but filled with emotion. “You practically confirmed every rumor Pansy started. Everyone thinks…” You trailed off, too frustrated to continue.

Draco looked at you steadily, his usual arrogance tempered by something softer, something real. “I know. And I don’t regret it,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I didn’t just say it to rile her up, Y/N. I said it because it’s true. That night meant something to me.”

His words struck you, cutting through the haze of your frustration and leaving you defenseless against the emotions you’d buried since that night. You looked away, struggling to keep your composure. “And what, exactly, did it mean to you?” you whispered, barely able to meet his gaze.

Draco stepped closer, his hand reaching out to tilt your chin, forcing you to look at him. His gaze was intense, every bit of his usual guardedness stripped away. “It meant that I want more than just a memory,” he said softly. “I want more than just that night.”

You felt a surge of something raw and overwhelming, a mixture of hope and fear tangled together in a way that left you breathless. He was asking for more than just a kiss, more than just a fleeting connection—he was asking for a chance, a real chance.

For a moment, you stood there, caught between the past and the possibility of something real. Part of you wanted to pull away, to put your walls back up and walk away from whatever this was before it grew into something you couldn’t control. But another part, a part you’d tried so hard to ignore, wanted to take that risk.

Finally, you reached up, your hand resting gently against his cheek. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, Draco,” you said, your voice steady despite the whirlwind inside you. “But maybe… maybe I don’t want it to just be a memory either.”

A slow, genuine smile softened his expression, and he leaned in, pressing his forehead gently to yours, his hand still cradling your face. In that quiet moment, the rest of the world faded away, leaving only the two of you, bound by a promise that was fragile yet undeniable.

As he pulled you into a soft, lingering kiss, you knew that whatever came next, you were ready to face it together, no matter how messy, complicated, or risky it might be. This wasn’t just a kiss; it was the beginning of something that neither of you could—or wanted to—ignore.

Likes, reblogs and comments are always very much appreciated! ♡

© slytherinsmuse. please do not copy, claim, translate or steal any of my works as your own.

[moonandstarshyuck]

"Always."

lando norris x gn!bf!reader

notes: I haven’t written since 2019, so bear with me. I’ve found myself thinking about a little blurb for Lando recently (actually a lot of ideas, but this one is sticking with me more than the others at the moment).

For some context, Lando’s been receiving a huge amount of hate online (and in-person) recently. I haven’t been a fan for that long—I got into F1 this summer, in 2024—but I’ve grown to care about him. I was there for Lando losing the championship, and while I think we all knew it would come to this (Max winning felt inevitable) but I’m proud of Lando for pushing so hard this entire year.

Still, with all the hate directed at him, I’m seeing a new side of him, and I’m learning that he’s a person with feelings like anyone else. I can tell he doesn’t always have the highest opinion of himself and tends to take the blame for anything that goes wrong during his races. What struck me about this is how much I relate to it. I blame myself for things out of my control or when I mess up. What sucks with Lando is that his small, human errors are what so many people focus on to criticize him—whether it’s why he didn’t win the championship or why they think he’s a bad person (which he absolutely isn’t).

The inspiration for this came from an interview he did after the Brazilian GP. At that point, everyone knew it was almost mathematically impossible for Lando to win the championship, and he talked about struggling in the aftermath: “I literally couldn’t sleep for the first two days…So I did like, what, 36-40 hours straight. So that probably made everything worse. When you’re tired, you’re more moody, and that kind of thing…I was just sat at home alone. It probably would have been better if I had been with my friends. But they don’t live in Monaco. They also have lives and are busy doing other things. And I’m a big overthinker, so like the whole flight home, the whole week, it just played over and over in my head. What could I have done differently? Why did I do that? Why did I not do this? You start thinking of all the scenarios that you kind of blame yourself for, why it’s now not possible, that kind of thing. And yeah, because I overthink and I struggle with that kind of thing, that took a bigger toll in the days after. It wasn’t an easy time.”

And I keep on finding myself wishing someone could have been there for him in person, so that he was okay. So, I wrote this. The reader in this is dating Lando but is written as a gender-neutral character that uses They/Them pronouns. The reader also has a service dog, a Bernese Mountain Dog named Thunder, to help with their own depression and anxiety (I’m not an expert on service dogs, so this many not be 100% accurate).

They woke up that early morning to the sunlight shining on their face, streaming in from the window outside. The bliss of sleep clung to them as they lay there, cocooned in warmth, the covers snug around their body. They stretched lazily, blinking their eyes open.

Instinctively, they turned to look beside them—only to find the space next to them empty. It’s too early in the morning to be anywhere else but in bed, even for training, they thought. Lando should still be here.

The realization pulled them out of their sleepy haze. The past couple of days had been not kind to Lando. They knew that he had a tendency to keep his feelings bottled up and beat himself up over his perceived failures. They understood that feeling all too well—the guilt, the constant sense of disappointment, the nagging thought that were never good enough. They had wrestled with those feelings since they were a child.

It wasn’t something that had an easy fix. If they had found the answer, they would have shared it with Lando years ago. But they had learned that the best way to fight those thoughts wasn’t isolation. Talking to someone, writing feelings down, even simple positive affirmations—thought they might sound silly—could help push back against the negative spiral. They had told Lando this countless times.

But Lando had a problem with not wanting to “inconvenience” anyone with his emotions. No matter how many times they reassured him that they were always there for him, he struggled to let himself. They didn’t blame him—it was human to struggle against your own mind.

What made everything worse was the constant online hate. Every little mistake or sarcastic comment from Lando seemed to turn into an avalanche of criticism. They remembered the first time they’d seen him like a hateful comment about himself on Instagram—the little heart next to a cruel statement, paired with note: “Creator liked this.” It had broken their heart. How could the Lando they loved ever believe such awful things about himself?

After Brazil, it had been clear that he wasn’t okay. He’d barely spoken since coming home, choosing instead to himself. They had given him space, hoping he’d find a way to process his feelings. But by the second morning, when he still hadn’t come to bed—almost forty hours after returning home—they knew they couldn’t stand by any longer.

That morning, they rose slowly from the bed, a plan beginning to form in their mind. Lanod needed someone to step in—someone to remind him he didn’t have to face his struggles alone. They were determined to be that person for him.  They couldn’t take it anymore, seeing the person they loved so badly, punishing himself over his ‘failures.’

The first step was to confirm where he was. Grabbing their phone, they opened Twitch and navigated to Max’s stream. After a few moments of watching, they heard Lando’s voice—tired, strained, but unmistakably his. He was joking with Max, his words clipped, like he was holding himself together with sheer willpower. It was enough to break their heart. They opened their messages with Max.

Thunder's Owner

Lan’s streaming with you rn?

Sent at 7:48 AM.

After a few seconds, Max replied.

Maximilian

Yeah he’s on voice-only.

Sent at 7:50 AM.

Gonna do something about him?

Sent at 7:50 AM.

Max knew. Of course he did. He probably heard the exhaustion in Lando’s voice, the edge self-loathing that came with overthinking. They typed back quickly:

Thunder's Owner

Yeah

Sent 7:52 AM.

Going to unplug his setup and drag him out of there.

Sent 7:52 AM.

Maximilian

Lol.

Sent 7:52 AM.

I’ll keep an eye out for when he disappears.

Sent 7:53 AM.

Thunder's Owner

Thx

Sent 7:54 AM.

They quietly made their way to Lando’s gaming room and eased the door open. Lando sat at his desk, controller in hand, headset clamped over messy curls.  He looked worn down, his shoulders slumped as he focused on the screen. His voice through, muted put playful, as he bantered with Max.

For a moment, they just watched him. Even now, he was handsome, but the tiredness in his expression made their chest ache. He deserved rest. He deserved to feel okay. And he wasn’t going to get that by sitting here punishing himself.

As soon as Lando died in-game and leaned back in his chair, they seized the opportunity. They crossed the room, catching his attention when they came into view.

“Why’re you—” Lando began, frowning, but they didn’t let him finish. Reaching down, they unplugged everything from the wall.

“What the hell—” he exclaimed, spinning around in his chair.

“No,” they said firmly, cutting him off. “I’m not you hurt yourself anymore. Get up.”

Lando blinked, clearly taken aback. “You can’t just do that!” he protested, but they were already tugging gently at him arm, urging him out of his chair.

“Angel, what are you—”

“No,” they repeated, their voice steady. “Get up,”

Lando hesitated for a moment before letting out a resigned sigh and standing. They took his hand, leading him out of the gaming room and down the hall to the living room. He didn’t resist, but he followed like a man in a daze. Once they reached the couch, they turned to him. “Sit,” they said, pointing at the cushions. Lando raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth to argue, but they shook their head. “Stay.”

They turned to Thunder, who had been waiting for them in the hallway, and told him, “Thunder, guard,” while pointing at Lando.

The dog immediately moved into position, standing alert in front of the couch. Lando’s eyes widened slightly as Thunder fixed him with an unblinking stare. He shifted as if to get up, but Thunder’s stance didn’t waver.

“Jeez, I wasn’t going to get up,” he mumbled to Thunder, but Thunder just sat there and watched him until he fully relaxed back into the couch.

The thought ran through Lando’s head, how he had honestly forgotten how menacing his own dog could look. He knew Thunder was trained, saw reminders of it daily with how he interacted with his partner, but he was still shocked at how trained Thunder really was at that moment.

Thunder was still staring at him when he pulled out his phone from his pocket, opening up his texts with Max.

LN

I was just dragged out of my gaming room and told to sit on the couch and like a dog.

Sent at 8:05 AM.

Not against it, but how tf did they get so determined?

Sent at 8:05 AM.

Thunder’s watching me right now.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

I forgot how menacing he could be.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

*Picture attached.*

Lol.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

Max (The 1st One)

He’s like ‘try me, I dare you’

Sent at 8:06 AM.

LN

Yeah, I don’t particularly want to try him

Sent at 8:07 AM.

Max (The 1st One)

Lol.

Sent at 8:07 AM.

They told me before they did it

Sent at 8:07 AM.

I just let them. Lol.

Sent at 8:07 AM.

LN

Helpful. What if they were trying to  kill me?

Sent at 8:08 AM.

They wouldn’t have had to if you kept doing what you were doing.

Sent at 8:09 AM.

Lando’s let out a quiet sigh, Max’s words sinking in. He glanced at Thunder, who hadn’t moved, and felt a pang of guilt. He’d pushed himself too far again, and this time it had clearly worried his partner.

A few minutes later, his partner walked back into their living room. He thought they looked beautiful, wearing one of his old t-shirts and a pair of boxers. They were entirely focused on the bowl they were carrying, and only looked up when they got close enough to hand it to him. He gently took the bowl, looked into it and saw it was one of his prep meals. While not his favorite breakfast, he knew he just needed to eat first, so he started taking bites.

He glanced up every so often, and each time he did, his partner was just sitting there and watching him eat. Lando almost chuckled at his own thought that they looked just like Thunder when watching him, and he smiled into his bowl at the thought. His partner didn’t see his smile, but he continued to eat until he had finished the bowl.

When he was done eating, he set the bowl down, and his partner again pulled him up by the crook of his arm. He just let them do so, having a thought of what was going to happen next.

His partner led them both down the hallway to their bedroom, and opened the door, leading him to sit on their bed, then they turned around and went to close their blinds and draw their black-out curtains to cover up the sunlight from the window. They had turned on their bedside lamp earlier, and the soft orange glow of the lamp permeated the room. They walked past him again, going to close the door after letting Thunder in, then they walked back to their side of the bed, and pulled him to lie down against them.

As he settled against their chest, he felt a bit odd, it being a bit of a difference to feel how much he was loved by them. How much they cared for him. And he finally spoke again, “Thank you.”

“Always, Lan. Always.” They replied, pressing a kiss to his hair.

And for the first time in days, he let himself sleep.

author's note: got inspired to actually write something for once...ty @koalapastries for the inspiration (unknowing inspiration but ty) (also sorry for using your layout outline

comments & reblogs appreciated

and i made the dividers :)

[headcanonenthusiast]

Alejandro Vargas NSFW headcanons

This was made with gender-neutral readers in mind.

Ladies, gentleman and everyone in-between, it's him. It's forehead man.

Alejandro is so FINE tho 😍 I'm so excited to be doing headcanons for this man. I'd learn Spanish just for him tbh.

(I completely understand that this type of content is not everyone's cup of tea, and that's ok! But, please scroll and ignore if this type of content isn't your thing as opposed to leaving any sort of negative comments.)

Enjoy!

Nsfw under the cut.

-His hands are absolutely glued to your hips the whole time.

-He gets the widest, most shit-eating grin whenever he manages to hit your g-spot.

-"Listen to those moans. Fuck, is that it? Is that the spot right there, amor?"

-Very confident in the fact that he can make you scream. In fact, he wants you to be loud.

-"Thats it, scream for me. Grita mi nombre. God, the neighbors must be so jealous of me because they aren't the ones making you scream."

-Edges you a lot tbh. Getting to cum immediately w/ him is kinda rare.

-If you make him jealous by talking to someone else, or if you guys just haven't been able to spend time together, he's more likely to edge you for longer.

-"Don't start whining, hermosa/o. You asked for this. Why were you talking to them anyways, hm? Why waste your time on someone like that when you have me?"

-Even if you were just talking to a friend innocently or something, chances of Alejandro's jealousy rising is high.

-He trusts you not to cheat on him, he knows you love him, but that doesn't stop him from being a tiny bit jealous anyway. And that jealously and possessiveness totally seeps into your sex life.

-3 inches soft, 5 inches hard and yall already know it's thick af ( lord.have.mercy🙏🙏🙏🙏)

-The sex is either passionate and rougher or passionate and gentler depending on the mood. But, it's always super passionate. His attention is focused entirely on you, with much deeper strokes if it's gentler.

-Marks you up a lot and doesn't really care who sees them. He wants people to know that you're his.

-"There we go. Look at how pretty your neck is, covered with my hickeys."

-And if you try to wear something that covers the marks, he'll carefully pull it right off of you.

-"No, no. Don't hide the marks, cariño. Why would you be ashamed of showing off how good I make you feel?"

-Will not hesitant to spank you if he doesn't like how you're acting. Slaps your ass and even your pussy/cock with every word he says.

-"Don't use that fucking tone with me. Who do you think you are?"

-Makes you count every slap. If you lose count, he'll start right over and much more harshly. (My dyscalculic ass could never 💀)

-I just know that his ideal introduction to sex is very romantic. Like, candlelight dinner followed by slow dancing that escalates into him carrying you to bed kinda romantic.

-At the end of the day, Alejandro just wants to be close to you. He dislikes quickies for the fact that he wants to spend time and take his time with you. To Alejandro, there's no greater pleasure than the ability to make his partner feel good.

-Will totally worship your body if you're insecure about it. If you ever come to him with your insecurities, his mindset changes from fucking you until the bed breaks to making the sweetest, most tender love imaginable.

-"Aw, look at this body. This gorgeous fucking body. You're crazy for being insecure about all of this."

-"Do you have any idea how many times this body's made me cum? Dios, the thought of this body, the thought of your pussy/dick is enough to make me cum."

-Will also gently massage your thighs as they hug his hips while making love, no matter how big or small they are.

-"Dios mío, these thighs...tan jodidamente increíble."

-Demands that you tell him how amazing you are.

-"Say it, baby. Tell me how beautiful/handsome you are."

-And if you refuse? He'll just keep asking you to, threatening to pull out and not let you finish if you don't.

-"That's not what I asked, mi vida. Say it for me, say how amazing and sexy you are. No dejaré que te corras si no lo haces."

-But the best thing about sex w/ Alejandro if you're feeling insecure and do everything he says? He always let's you cum. Never edges you like he normally would. It's probably because he's not nearly as focused on himself and his own pleasure as he normally would be.

-Enjoys gently cumming inside of you during more gentle sex. Prefers cumming on your pussy/ass/dick or even your chest/belly if it's rougher, though.

-Often shuts his eyes as he finishes, fingers digging into your skin before his grip loosens and his eyes are glued to your face once more. He chuckles while showering your face in kisses, voice hushed and satisfied.

-"Dios mío, that was amazing. Can't believe I'm with someone as wonderful as you, mi amor."

-Almost always hopes you'll agree to taking a bath with him. Like I said, he's all about romantic intercourse, and there's nothing more romantic to Alejandro than getting to wash your body of the mess you've both created.

-And then you're gonna both fall asleep, Alejandro's strong arms wrapped tightly around you while he kisses the back of your neck and shoulders, whispering praises and adoring words.

-Oh, and he usually tries to stay up later than you. Why? Because the look on your face after sex, all satisfied and at total peace, makes him feel accomplished and happy for making you feel good.

Translations: (apologies if anything is inaccurate, online translators can only get you so far :()

Cariño=sweetheart/honey

Amor=love

Hermosa/o=beautiful

Mi vida=my life

Dios/Dios mío=God/my God

Grito mi nombre=Yell out my name

Tan jodidamente increíble=So fucking incredible

No dejaré que te corras si no lo haces=I won't let you cum if you don't

Alejandro has my ❤. He's just so.. 😍

Really enjoyed doing headcanons for him! You can probably tell that I had way more ideas for Alejandro than I did for Gaz (I'm so sorry Gaz enjoyers 😭). I've also intended to do Alejandro for a while, before even Ghost or König. I just did those two first since ik how popular they are.

I'll be doing more headcanons soon, probably more SFW ones, too, because I only have like 2 SFW headcanons on my page 😔.

Feel free to give me suggestions for who to do next!